The End of Immortality
by XxThe Vampire KingxX
Summary: Chaos reigns in Tamriel. The Second Great War has begun. Skyrim's civil war has turned to anarchy, as Kings and Jarls fight for whatever they can. A child rules in Cyrodiil. Necromancers raise armies of undead. Daedra terrorize the countryside. A Bosmer, a Breton, and a Nord shall converge to decide the fate of Tamriel, as ancient evil rises once again.


It was fucking cold.

Edwyval, who'd so far never actually left the coast of the Iliac Bay, couldn't remember a time when he'd experienced such a cold as Skyrim during wintertime. He was not enjoying it so far.

Snow fell in the silent forests of Falkreath, and as he rode along with his wife beside him, and the royal procession in front and behind, he kept finding himself questioning the wisdom of agreeing to ride, on horseback, from Wayrest, to the Imperial City.

Aside from the sound of snow crunching beneath the hooves of dozens of horses and men, the forest was completely silent. None spoke, as if afraid to disturb its eerie peacefulness. Though Edwyval couldn't sit still.

The snow would fall and melt against his flaxen hair, and he constantly would have to shake his head to be sure that it would not freeze solid. His cheeks were red with the bites of winter, and his gloved fingers shook violently as he clung to the reigns of his horse. He hunched his shoulders, huddling the fur cloak about himself for just a minuscule more insulation.

Lucrezia looked no better.

She was from Bruma, but by the looks of her nearly blue lips, and the circlet which no doubt had frozen to her dark brown hair, she was not enjoying herself either.

"Skulkag," Edwyval began to the orc who rode in front of him, an orc that he trusted with his life, "How much longer until we stop?" Edwyval was not one to whine normally, though Lucrezia looked as though she'd had it near her limit, and he didn't blame her.

"Not long, your royal highness." Skulkag assured in his throaty voice, though Edwyval could hear the icy fingers around it as well.

They had left Wayrest five days prior, and hadn't had one single day of easy riding. The first two were miserable and stormy, at one point they had to dismount from their horses and trudge through deep, muddy fens, and the next days had dropped so quickly in temperature that Edwyval couldn't help but wonder if they had been cursed by the Divines.

It would make sense.

Lucrezia and he had met, married, and bedded the day before their departure from his home-city, and Sebastian could say in all honesty that he felt nothing for his wife. If anything, pity came the closest.

It was purely political, they both knew that.

Edwyval was Prince of Wayrest, though not its heir, that title went to his elder brother, and Lucrezia was heiress of Bruma, and had a tenuous grasp at the Imperial family. Her House of Valarius had paid a great deal for a marriage to his House of Beaufort. A massive dowry, a spot in the Imperial Elder Council, and Edwyval would be made Count of Bruma on the current Counts death.

But it would all be worth it.

"Are you feeling alright my love?" Edwyval inquired absently, though he smiled and looked over at her.

"Just a bit cold." Lucrezia answered with a grin. Edwyval truly pitied her. She was a great Colovian beauty, dark hair, olive skin, and fine features, yet no part of him would be attracted to her. He'd done his duties as a husband of course, and would continue to do so until she birthed a son.

But he wouldn't enjoy it.

They were both only nineteen, and already resigned and unhappily married.

"When we reach a stopping point my dear," Lucrezia managed through shattering teeth, "You must remind me to write to my father that we will be bypassing Bruma and headed straight for the city."

That was one thing Sebastian _did _admire of Lucrezia. No lollygagging.

"Your highness," Skulkag raised his fist armored fist, signaling for the procession to stop, he looked around at the silent forest, "I think we are being followed."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and looked at the trees, which stood like silent giants, all hiding something behind them.

"Spider?" Lucrezia asked with a widening of her eyes.

"No, your highness." Skullkag answered with what sounded like a chuckle, "No, someone is watching us."

"Pull your hood up my lady." Edwyval advised, his wife immediately complying.

The forest was dead. The only sound was the frigid kiss of the wind, and the only movement were the gold foxes, dancing on the banner-mans flag.

There was a rustling in the bushes.

Minriel found archery to be so exciting.

Over here, your fingers relax.

Over there, death.

It was so thrilling, and that was exactly what was happening.

The rocky outcrop that she crouched in was uncomfortable, as her amber eyes watched the scene down below.

Elenya and J'zenno were in pitched combat with a motley group of Imperial soldiers that they had been tracking for a few weeks now.

Minriel notched an arrow and drew.

Relax, death.

They had been following the group from Cheydinhal, and now engaged them at the foothills of the Jeral Mountains. It had been an arduous task, and Elenya refused to tell the other two what they were after.

But it was fine with Minriel.

Relax, death.

It was for the good of the Dominion war effort, and thats what mattered.

Elenya used fire with great proficiency, calm and relaxed, even as she incinerated her enemies. Minriel would swear that she could feel the heat of the fire from afar.

J'zenno was the complete opposite.

A blur of speed and blades, he lashed out at the Legionnaires, cutting them down with only daggers as if the whole thing were childs play. In a way it was.

A particularly gruesome death by Elenya's part was a man attempting to flee. He had gotten fairly far before she had noticed. The last thing he would have felt was the heat.

Ten Imperial Legionnaires had woken up that day. But they would not go to sleep.

"I hope this was all worth it?" Minriel asked, clambering down the rocks as Elenya searched the scorched and bleeding bodies.

"It was." Elenya said, pulling a folded up letter from beneath the mail of one of the men, her face coming as close to a smile as Minriel had ever seen.

"This one wonders, what is in the note?" J'zenno inquired, wiping the blade of his dagger against a still squirming Legionnaires uniform.

"Something which will help us on our objective." Elenya slipped the letter, without reading it, into her Thalmor robes. She looked at the rest of the trio.

"Will you still not tell us what we are looking for out here?" Minriel asked as she unstrung her bow, looking at Elenya with hard eyes.

"All I can say, is that it is a weapon that will help us against the Imperial Legion." Minriel cast a glance at J'zenno at the answer, though the Khajiit remained silent. She looked back at Elenya, who now examined the bodies around her feet, her emerald eyes looking from one body to the next, a furrowing of her brow in between each.

The three of them were a strange little trio, in her opinion.

Elenya was an Altmer noble, she was a Bosmer peasant, and J'zenno was a criminal.

But, they were the ones picked for this, 'Important task', and it must be accomplished.

_For the Aldmeri Dominion._

"Minriel," Elenya's almost shrill voice pierced through her thoughts, "Did any of the beasts escape?"

"No," Minriel assured flatly, "Though some _tried _to."

"This one wonders, if perhaps we leave this area, as soon someone will come and notice." J'zenno pointed out as he surveilled the scene. He was right, scouts, farmers, children, it wouldn't be long at all before they were spotted.

"Yes alright," Elenya agreed, "We must keep heading north." Elenya hadn't even bothered to tell them what their destination was. Though the two of them personally had their theories.

Minriel was under the impression that they sought out Wuuthrad, though J'zenno emphatically stated that it had been lost after a plunderer had stolen it from its resting place, and sold it to a traveling caravan that his uncle belonged to.

J'zenno wondered if they were seeking a Daedric artifact, and so far, Minriel hadn't found a way to disprove this theory.

"This one wonders why the Altmer refuses to tell us anything." He remarked as they walked.

"Well the Thalmor has been known to keep everything very quiet, especially now with the Imperial Legion fully invading the Dominion." Minriel remembered that day. Indeed it would not be something that she would forget.

Peaceful enough in the morning, but by nightfall, her father's throat had been slit, and her mother had been ravaged by dozens of Imperial Legionnaires. Minriel had only barely managed escape. Ever since, she'd been wholly a devoted member of the Thalmor army.

The two of them walked a little ways behind their Altmeri commanding officer so that they were free to talk. Elenya wasn't one to normally engage in such pleasantries anyhow.

"This one thinks that we are going to Skyrim? Why else would we press on so far north?" J'zenno mused quietly, again, Minriel found it hard to disprove his theory.

"But for what purpose? I can't imagine that we would go so far for a Daedric weapon." Minriel grumbled in irritation.

"We are not _going _for a Daedric weapon." Elenya snapped from in front of them, though she didn't turn around to look.

"This one asks what _are _we going for then?" J'zenno piped.

"Something much more powerful."

Calder had known that this was a bad idea.

Robbing a caravan of traders was one thing, but holding up a royal procession was quite another. Though as usual, he had allowed Hakar and Ivan's shaky wisdom to convince him to go through with it.

The three of them had followed the procession for half a day.

Calder had insisted all along that this was a stupid plan, but his voice had been lost.

Officially, the three of them were _supposed_ to be headed to Falkreath to deliver a message to the Jarl from the newly crowned King Nelkir of Whiterun, but Hakar had decided that this would be a much more enjoyable experience.

They had each taken up a strategic position, Hakar out front, and Calder and Ivan on the flanks. Even still, they were outnumbered, and even _with _Ivan's strength as a werewolf, this was suicidal.

For five minutes, they'd been lying it wait, but when the orcs hand went up, Calder felt his heart sink in his stomach, his hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword.

"Whoever is out there we mean no harm or conflict, we only wish to pass through." A deep voice called, reverberating from the heavily armored and armed Orc.

Calder looked to where Hakar was hiding, he saw rustling.

"You have three seconds to show yourself before I come and get you." The Orc said, unsheathing two wicked looking war axes from his belt.

"One…"

He saw more rustling.

"Two…"

The Orc started walking closer to the bushes.

The rustling grew louder.

"Three…"

What happened next was almost too fast. Coming from the bushes, instead of Hakar, was Ivan. Though he'd assumed his werewolf form, and had managed to tackle the Orc to the ground, snarling in his face. It didn't last long though.

Not only could the orc impressively through Ivan off, but a flash of green light shot through the forest, and Ivan lay on the ground, immobilized.

"A werewolf?" A voice mused, coming from one of two figures sitting up on horses, a young man, a boy really, who still had his hand outstretched with a spell at the ready.

"Yes, and now I'm going to skin him." The Orc replied to the boy, who by the look of his clothing, was apparently his master.

"Wait!" Calder saw Hakar burst from the bushes, battle axe in hand, "Don't touch him!" He cried, raising the axe threateningly.

Calder burst through the trees, swords drawn, the Orc looked between the two boys, and the werewolf who lay stunned on the ground.

"Well, isn't this a lovely surprise, I haven't gotten to kill a Nord in a _long _time, now I get to kill two, _and _their pet werewolf." The Orc said, his fists closing hard around the hilts of his axes.

"Skulkag," The boy said, dismounting from his horse, "I don't believe there will be any need for that."

"Your royal highness, I strongly suggest that you return to your horse." The Orc said, though he didn't take his eyes of the three of them.

"Yes why don't you leave the fighting to the men, boy." Hakar said, which caused a simultaneous chuckle, and grown of irritation from Calder.

"Watch yourself, that _boy _is a prince of Wayrest and soon to be Count of Bruma." Skulkag growled, growing angrier with each passing second.

"Skulkag, calm," The boy said in an even tone, looking from Hakar to Calder, "Who are you three?" The boy asked, settling on Calder.

"_We _are warriors to his majesty, King Nelkir of Whiterun." Hakar answered for Calder, though he nodded, somewhat apologetically, in agreement.

"I wasn't aware Whiterun _had _a King, when did that happen?" The boy wondered, "It doesn't matter, I am Prince Edwyval Beaufort of Wayrest, he is Skulkag, my personal bodyguard, she is my wife, Princess Lucrezia Beaufort, and this is my procession, we are on our way to the Imperial City, and we would appreciate you letting us by."

Calder eyed this boy, then his orc, then his wife, who's face peered out from a deep red hood. Her face was tan and framed with ebony locks, almost out of place in the snowy woods. She looked back at him timidly, though her eyes suggested something much deeper beneath them.

"Would you let us pass?" Calder's attention snapped back to the conversation, and he realized that the Prince was speaking to him.

"Well, I'm not the commanding officer…" Calder murmured, "That would be Hakar."

The Prince's gaze swiveled to Hakar in irritation, though Calder couldn't necessarily blame him.

"Will you let us pass without trouble, Hakar?" The Prince asked again.

"For a fee I might." Hakar growled, holding his axe at the ready, eyeing the Orc dangerously, though Calder wondered exactly what in Talos' name he planned to do with it against the giant Orc, and a seemingly powerful Breton sorcerer.

"Why you sniveling little-

"_Skulkag." _The Prince warned, before looking back at Hakar.

"That is quite a shame." He looked down at Ivan, who by now was beginning to shift back into human form.

"Take the three of them prisoner." The Prince ordered, walking back towards his horse.

"Your crazy if you think we are letting you do that." Hakar said, backing away as the Orc walked nearer to him, kicking Ivan gently so as to rouse the werewolf, who was now unconscious.

Calder backed away as three warriors broke from the line, walking towards him with weapons readied.

"You don't really have a choice, him afraid." The Prince mused, looking and saying something to his wife, who nodded, though she did not take her eyes off of Calder.

"King Nelkir will send an _army _to retrieve us." Hakar bluffed. Calder looked at the Prince, who didn't seemed convinced at all.

"Then we will deal with that when the time comes." He raised a hand, that had been glowing green. Lights flashed throughout the woods three times, and the Nord warriors were prisoners to the Breton Prince.


End file.
